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5. My Sunshine and Rainstorm

"It's alright Jimmy, everything's going to be ok. I promise," I crooned to the whimpering dog on our sofa, huddled beneath the blanket with me.

Bill was at the hospital with Nanny Anne. She suffered another one of her terrible coughing spasms, but this one was much worse than her usual ones. This time there was blood.

Nanny Anne was incessantly coughing up blood. She had been essentially bed ridden for weeks, unable to move in fear of her legs passing out on her, but tonight she had insisted she was feeling better and joined us down in the living room. She hadn't even made it completely through the archway before she bowled over.

I looked out of the corner of my eye, praying that what I was seeing was a figment of my imagination, hoping that my mind had finally spiralled out of normalcy from the weight of my nightmares and stress and I was now seeing things.

The blood stain on the carpet.

I buried my face in Jimmy's fur. "Don't worry Jimmy, she's strong, she won't give up," I reassured myself as well as Jimmy. Silent tears streaked down my face.

The scene was still so intense in my mind, swimming behind my eyelids no matter how hard I tried to press my eyes shut. I recalled seeing Bill leap across the room, his limp preventing him from reaching Nanny Anne before she dropped to her knees. In his hysterical state he hadn't thought to use the Floo, so I used the rarely used telephone and called an ambulance. I remembered waiting, the time dragging on for what felt like hours as I stared horrified, for the ambulance to arrive. The paramedics rushed to get Nanny Anne away; Bill refusing to leave her.

The only thought that ran through my mind was that she was dying. She was losing more and more blood with each cough. This was it. I was losing her just as fast as I got her.

By morning the entire village heard of Nanny Anne's stay at the hospital. Letters upon letters flooded through the letter box, covering the floor in a mound of paper and card. The shrill ringing of the phone beside my head woke me up and I fumbled out of the blanket to answer it.

"Hello?" my voice croaked.

"Ella," Bill's voice rang out, "you alrigh'?"

"How is she?" I asked.

He sighed. "She's…ok. The doctors want her to stay a li'l longer, say she's not takin' too kindly to the medication," his voice was hoarse and weak. I couldn't bring myself to speak. How ok was 'ok'? Was she stable? Was she improving? Was she getting worse…? I didn't dare ask. The fear that the thought momentarily brought me made me shiver. I needed to see her. "I'm goin' ta stay with her until she's able to come home. You can stay with Zoe or Nate if yer like."

"When can I see her?"

Bill hesitated. "Go to Zoe's and then get Mrs Brimble to drop you off after lunch, alrigh'? How does tha' sound to yer?"

I nodded before realising he couldn't see through the telephone. "Ok." He hung up.

Putting the phone down, I turned to Jimmy. He was gazing up with his large brown eyes, lying in silence. I ran my fingers through his fur once then got off the sofa, stretching my aching muscles.

"Come on Jimbo, sleepover at Zo's."

The blinding white of the walls and the sickly clean smell of antiseptic churned my stomach, threatening to release the lunch of sandwiches I had nibbled on.

I followed the directions on the walls to room 42 in the Dunlop ward in the cardiac centre: Nanny Anne's room.

Room 38…Tea room…Room 39

Nurses and doctors bustled past without a second glance to the small child wandering the narrow halls, each focusing on clipboards and trollies, as if the short gap between the life and death of people did not rest in their hands.

The posters on the walls displayed images of body organs, each with slogans, statistics and deadly warnings. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with a C," "Breast is best," and "Don't drink yourself fat," were just some I glanced over. The images varied from hauntingly scary to colourful and cheery; the contradiction burning the back of my eyes.

One picture of a girl chugging a jar of oil reminisced Nanny Anne, with pink froth cascading down her chin. I cringed.

Room 40…Room 41…Waiting Room

My heart was beating wildly in my chest. Why was I worried? Bill said she was ok. She was fine. Pink froth and stained carpet flashed in my mind. That's not fine. I shook my head. Positive thoughts…positive.

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I rounded the corner and I hastily wiped it off. No need to cry, I told myself, she's fine, I chanted, she's fine, she's fine, she's fine. She's at the hospital now. The doctors are fixing her. They won't let her go…they won't let her die-

Room 42…

With a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

The first thing I noticed was the sound of consistent beeping. Then it was the darkness. The room was much darker than the rest of the hospital but the white walls and fluorescent lamp highlighted the silhouettes of two figures.

I walked over to the bed, my gaze never leaving Nanny Anne's form. She didn't look much better than when she was taken: her face a deathly pale covered in a light coating of sweat; her wrinkles and veins prominent; her greying blonde hair straggly.

"Ella, darling, how nice to see you," Nanny Anne greeted, her smile looking more like a grimace.

"Hi, Nanny. How are you?" I was ashamed at how small my voice came out. Here I was, visiting Nanny Anne and I was the one sounding sick. Pathetic. I cleared my throat, determined to be strong.

"I'm ok, love. How's Jimmy?"

"He's not too good," I replied honestly.

Jimmy was possibly in a state worse than me. He resisted moving all morning, finally moving when I was almost reduced to tears from frustration. Once we arrived at the front door of the Brimble house, ushered in by the ever-fussing Mrs Brimble, Jimmy trotted into the garden and stayed there unmoving. He refused to even eat, only showing signs of life with a twitch of his ear when someone mentioned Nanny Anne or Bill.

"Silly pup, knows I'm going to be fine and yet he still makes a fuss," Nanny Anne sighed, holding my hand with shaky fingers.

"Are you?" I asked, "Going to be fine?"

She breathed out a laugh. "Of course I am, darling."

A snore broke the air and I looked over to see Bill sleeping in his chair, his chin drooping down on his chest.

"Wouldn't sleep all night, the old fart," Nanny Anne smiled, looking over at Bill. "Big old bear worries too much."

We spent the afternoon talking about nothing, carefully avoiding the topic of Nanny Anne's diagnosis, before a yawn escaped my lips. I waved Nanny Anne off when she told me to go home and sleep. I was too happy being with her; I didn't want to leave. I was determined to stay with her for as long as I could. Despite her shrugging her health off, she wasn't fine. She wasn't well.

"Ella," Bill muttered, blinking his eyes open, "When d'you get here?"

"A while ago," I said.

"You girls hungry? Want anythin' to eat?" He asked.

"We're fine, love. Ella should be going now though," Nanny Anne said, pointedly looking at me.

"No, I don't want-"

"Alrigh', let me walk you out," Bill stood up and walked out the room, patting Nanny Anne's shoulder as he passed.

"But I-"

"Now, now, Ella," Nanny Anne cut me off, "I'll be home in no time. Don't worry, you go and keep Jimmy some company."

"But he's with Zoe," I couldn't help but whine.

"Ella," her voice was stern, greatly contrasting her weak body, "you need to go, darling. It won't be long until I'm home."

"You promise?"

Nanny Anne patted my hand. "Promise."

I met Bill outside room 42.

"I'll come home when Anne's fit to come. Otherwise I'll be stayin' with her. You'll be alrigh'?" He asked as we walked through the hallways.

I nodded. "What's wrong with her?"

He sighed and put an arm loosely around my shoulders. "Her heart hasn't been good. A few years ago she had a heart attack. Doctor says it's made it weak, and that it caused her to cough up…you know. So they're gonna do some tests and if she's fine she'll be allowed home."

We stopped in the entrance and I looked up at Bill. "She will be fine Ella. Don't you worry 'bout yer Nanny, she's been through hell an' back, and she won' let somethin' like this take her away. Not from you. Not when she jus' got you." We shared a brief awkward hug. "Look after Jimmy."

Bill and Nanny Anne were both right when they said they'd be home soon. I was at the Brimble household for a few days before Bill came to get me and Jimmy. Jimmy ran all the way home and jumped on Nanny Anne and refused to leave her side for days.

Her health over the year stayed stable and she was able to continue her chores as usual. She would have odd days where she would stay in bed and her coughs would start up again but a few visits to the doctor and she'd be right as rain again. Well, as right as she could be with the state of her weak heart. The doctor made home visits to check up on her often; the prognosis always coming up positive. After the third visit he even bought sweets for me, saying how I deserved it for being the best carer for Nanny Anne. I spent most of my time with her after school and even Bill took hours off work from the paper shop to stay at home with us.

I saw George again in the town one day, and almost burst out in tears. Seeing his familiar face and warm smile, and even his annoyingly twitchy wink was a blessing after having witnessed a vicious coughing attack from Nanny Anne that afternoon.

We walked through the village and raced up a tree in the park. I was beating him but he kept pulling me down by my ankle.

"Cheating plonker," I grumbled as I swung my legs on either side of the branch. He had made it up first and was leaning against the bark, arms folded behind his head.

"Don't be jealous, Cinderella. Now then, tell me your woes, oh young one." He had taken it upon himself to call me Cinderella after I told him the story of the fairy-tale princess a few weeks back.

"I'm not much younger than you, Georgie."

"A year younger, baby Cinderella," he teased.

"Shut up."

He kicked my knee with his outstretched leg. I sighed. "Nanny Anne's still not well." On our last encounter I was incredibly glum and he made me tell him what was bothering me. He even went so far as to take me to the bakery for a cupcake.

"Ah, I see. She getting worse?"

"No, the doctor says she's fine. Ugh, I hate that word. Fine," I spat. "Everything's fine, Nanny Anne's fine, don't worry Ella, even if she is dying, it won't matter, 'cos everything is bloody fine." I gasped, covering my mouth with both hands.

George sniggered. "Ooh, Princess Cinderella said a bad word!"

"Oh my God- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to."

"It's fine, honestly Ella. I've heard worse. Remember? Six other siblings," George smiled.

"Don't tell anyone," I said.

"Cross my heart," he rolled his eyes and made a cross across his chest with his finger. "But seriously, if everyone says she's fine, and if she's acting normally, there doesn't seem to be any reason for you to worry, Elle." That nickname I could tolerate.

"But it won't just go away will it? Whatever's hurting her heart," I muttered. I felt uncomfortable with the seriousness of the conversation; never before had we spent so long discussing Nanny Anne. George would always turn the conversation around when we spoke too much of anything sad and glum. But that was just George: all round happy. Always smiling. Apart from the days where the happiness radiated through our home and Nanny Anne was having a good day, George was the only other thing that truly bought a smile to my face. Zoe and Nate were far too busy with their schoolwork and other friends (and in Zoe's case her brothers) to spend much time with me. And if they did, they would spend the evenings holed up with Nanny Anne and Bill as well.

"Hey, wanna hear what scandalous accident Perce had the other day?" he asked with his signature cheeky grin. And just like that he was intensely regaling the tale of another of Percy's woes, his arms waving around himself and the grin never leaving his face. This time, he and Fred, his closest brother and partner in crime, had pranked Percy by pouring soap into his morning juice and emptying a jar of ants onto his pancakes. Tears were threatening to pour down my face, for the first time in what felt like forever from mirth rather than fear. My ribs and cheeks ached and my laughter simmered into silence from the lack of air in my lungs after George's impersonation of his brother's reaction. He followed this by imitating his mother's response, wagging his finger and stomping on the branch, all the while shaking his butt – as he claimed his mother did when frustrated.

"Come on Cinderella, let's get something to eat," George said once we had both calmed down.

I lifted my head off his shoulder. "Last one down's a rotten egg!" I scrambled to my feet and instantly rushed down the tree. I heard a mumbled yell from George before my feet touched the ground and I jumped in joy.

George joined me moments later. "Oi, you cheated!" he huffed, but the smile on his face gave away his annoyance.

"Now we're even," I tweaked his nose and turned to walk out the park.

We made it to the fruit stall within minutes, George hurriedly checking the time on the big clock in the square every once in a while.

"Hello Mr Babbington," I greeted the sandy blonde behind the counter. George sniggered behind me and I stamped his foot to silence him. God, that boy was really rude sometimes.

"Oh, hello Ella. How's Anne doing?" he asked with a handsome smile.

I shrugged. "Same." I never delved into too much detail of Nanny Anne's wellbeing when asked by the other villagers. It wasn't that it made me uncomfortable, but it was more due to the fact that hardly anyone genuinely seemed to care. No one even visited anymore to check up on her. "Where's Mr Dicks today?"

George snorted out loud and I elbowed him harshly when Mr Babbington had his back turned. "Mr Dicks? Is that real?" Even without looking at his face I could hear the unbidden laughter in his smile. "I don't think it's possible to get a surname worse than Dicks."

"Don't be so rude Weasley," I hissed under my breath.

"Oh, Dicky," George sniggered again and muffled his laughter by stuffing a fist in his mouth. What was so funny? "He's out fishing today, wanted to enjoy the weather while it lasts."

I nodded and took the two apples from him. I held out the green apple to George with my nose scrunched up; I still couldn't understand how someone could favour green apples over red. "Actually," George said, eyeing the apple I held out to him, "can I have a red one instead?"

It took me a few seconds to take in what he requested. I stumbled over my words before letting out a strange noise that sounded a mixture of a high pitched warble and a groan. Swapping the green apple for a red one and handing it to George, I watched as he took a great bite, successfully dripping juice down his chin.

"What?" he asked, his voice muffled.

I was still in shock. "But I- you said…green…but red…what?"

George chuckled. "What can I say? Red's growing on me."

If I wasn't rooted to the spot in disbelief I would've slapped him for giving me that damn wink.

Waiting was something I grew to hate. Loathe. Dread. Despise. Detest. Abhor. It was all I seemed to be doing. Waiting meant there was time to think. And thinking was something I could really do without. Even the fairy-tale book I had open on my lap couldn't hold my concentration for more than half a sentence.

This morning seemed a lifetime away. Dancing in the kitchen by the stove as I flipped pancakes – unsuccessfully – while Bill twirled Nanny Anne around to the radio and Jimmy jumped around. We were having one of our good days, where the sun shined in through the large kitchen window and birds sung to their hearts content. George had even dropped by, albeit only for a few minutes – enough for him to inhale half the pancakes and leave with chocolate syrup all over his face. It was just like the first time he had officially met Nanny Anne and Bill all those months ago, but without the nervous worry of them approving of him as my friend. I remember desperately needing them to like him; he was my sunshine in the gloomy world of heart disease and my hidden past.

But now…now he was family to them. My worrying had been pointless. Nanny Anne absolutely loved George and all his wittiness, and even Bill loved hearing the a few tales of his most famous – infamous to his family – pranks.

"Well aren't you a little devil, eh," Nanny Anne smiled to George as he puffed out his chest and gave his most angelic face.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean dearest Anne."

She chuckled. "Little devil and a charmer, always getting yourself into and out of trouble. What are we going to do with you George?"

"Carry on feeding me those delicious pancakes of yours would be a good start," he jibed. The table erupted into laughter again.

He rushed out soon after demolishing breakfast, claiming his mum had been expecting the milk to arrive ten minutes ago. He left with Nanny Anne calling out for him to invite his family around to dinner one day, just like she always did.

I flicked the page over and started on the fairy-tale story of 'Cinderella'. I'd read it so many times since Nanny Anne gave me the book that I could remember it by heart. But still I read on, relishing in the familiar words and sweetness of the tale.

The afternoon was drastically different to the morning. Nanny Anne was seated on her armchair for hours before Bill rushed her to the hospital. He said she looked weak and, on the doctor's orders, had to take her in for signs of any irregularities. Nanny Anne squeezed a lingering hug to me on her way out and peppered my face in kisses, breathing out, "I love you," between each one. The gesture, although sweet, bought a foreboding sense of finality. I couldn't let go of her and it took Bill to drag us apart for me to retreat to the pistachio-green sofa. No matter how I looked and analysed her behaviour the same thought spun around in my head.

That was goodbye.

It had been a good four hours since the two had left. No one called so I had no idea what to think. And when there was no news, my mind tended to spiral to the worst case scenario. But I couldn't afford to think like that, not now. Instead I directed my thoughts to family outings over the year. The picnic we had in the garden last week came first into mind. We laid out a vibrant red blanket on the overgrown grass and emptied the basket full of sandwiches, fruit and chicken drumsticks. The clouds were hovering over the sun that day and darkened to a miserable grey, threatening the arrival of rain. Zoe and Nate were invited and we all sat down and ate and laughed and sang songs until the heavens opened and rain showered down over the village. It was one of the few days we all got to spend together and not even the rain could burst our bubble of bliss.

A smile tugged on my lips as I thought back to Bill and Nanny Anne hurriedly packing the remnants of food while Jimmy bit onto Nate's jumper and dragged him further out into the garden. Zoe jumped on my back, wrapped her long legs around my waist and arms around my neck and shouted nonsense up to the sky. I twirled around until we collapsed, dirtying our clothes in the process. We rested in the mud, catching our breaths before leaping up and throwing mud balls on Nate.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening snapped me out of my daze. She had to be ok. Boots shuffled on the hardwood floor and keys jingled. My eyes were locked onto the archway, praying that they would hurry on through and relieve me from my internal worrying. Jimmy, who had been resting on the floor by the fireplace, was now watching the archway intently as well. He soon got impatient and trotted out the room to meet the guest.

Seconds past and finally Jimmy came back in, resuming his space by the fireplace and buried his nose in his paws. Was that good or bad?

Turning back to the archway, I saw the shadow before the figure. My eyes never leaved him as he lazily limped to his armchair, keeping his gaze downcast. He slumped down in his seat. No other noise was made or heard. Not even the wind dared to whistle through the village.

I looked at the occupants in the room and felt my heart, like Bill, slump down into nothing.

Nanny Anne wasn't coming home.